


As Young As We Are Now

by BuddysImpala



Category: The Greatest Showman (2017)
Genre: Anxiety, Birthday, Birthday Party, Depression, M/M, aging anxiety, barlyle - Freeform, my poor boy, phineas needs a hug, title is a song
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-23
Updated: 2018-07-23
Packaged: 2019-06-15 04:58:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15405483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BuddysImpala/pseuds/BuddysImpala
Summary: P.T. Barnum has anxieties he's been holding back from Phillip.





	As Young As We Are Now

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was written in an unusual style (for me) where I wrote parts at a time before posting them (originally in a group chat) so if the flow is a tad off, that's why. Trying to decide if I like it or not

 

**Title: As Young As We Are Now**

**Word Count: 2,525**

**\---**

Phineas Barnum was a man who loved celebrating his birthday. Aging was just a simple fact of life, he said, and he loved to use the day to celebrate with his friends and family. He'd been celebrating with his circus family for a few years, now, and every year they turned the event into a party, complete with an extra special circus performance later on in the evening.

This year, however, is different.

At first, everything seems normal. Lettie bakes a cake (something she did every year, though Anne helped her once), Charles and Constantine were in charge of wrapping Phineas's gift, and Anne leads the others in charge of decoration. It isn't a surprise party – the first year they celebrated, the troupe had attempted a surprise party, only for Phineas to accidentally trip over Charles and fall into the cake – but the troupe is eager and excited nonetheless.

Upon arriving at the circus grounds, Phineas smiles and laughs, but the smile doesn't reach his eyes and his laughter sounds... hollow, at least to Phillip. They have a show later that day so Phineas excuses himself to his office – a little odd on his birthday, but not totally unnatural – and leaves after Lettie insists on cutting him a slice of cake. Phillip waits a minute, maybe two, before excusing himself and going after him.

Phillip knocks on the office door. Normally, he'd just walk in, but this is... weird. Phineas is acting weird. So he knocks on the door, and there's no answer. He's about to knock again when the door opens, and Phineas looks down at him. There's something weird about the way he looks

(his eyes are watery)

but Phillip can't place what it is at first glance.

"Phillip. What can I do for you?"

Phillip blinks. There's nothing weird about Phin's question, but it's the... way he asks it. Formal. Formal and detached. They've talked business before – they have to, they've got a circus to run – but even before they got together as something more than business partners, Phineas had never been this... impersonal with him. It's like emotion is completely void from his voice. Even the way he stands, stiff and tense, blocking Phillip from the office, is so unlike Phineas that it causes Phillip a momentary pause, a shift from foot to foot. He takes a second glance at Phineas's eyes, but Phineas has blinked any trace of tears away.

Even so, Phillip can tell.

Something is wrong.

"Are you... all right, Phin?"

Phillip keeps his voice low, in case someone should come walking and overhear. Most of the troupe knew about the two of them, but even so they try to keep it as professional around the circus as they can. Phillip only ever calls him "Barnum" or "P.T." when around the circus, just like everyone else.

Phineas forces a smile, but it makes Phillip cringe. It's the furthest thing from his usual, larger-than-life performance grin – it almost looks like a grimace.

"Of course. Why wouldn't I be?"

In his attempt to make conversation, Phineas shifts without really realizing it, and Phillip takes the chance to shoulder past him. The movement takes Phineas by surprise, and he grabs Phillip by the arm – but Phillip has seen enough.

Every year, a member of the troupe – usually Lettie, but Anne's pitched in at least once too – bakes a cake for Phin. It's a big cake so everyone can have a slice if they want it. Phin's guilty pleasure is chocolate – he turns up his nose at vanilla, of course, it's much too plain for him, so every year he has a chocolate cake that is shared with everyone. And every year, he gobbles the slice up like it's a piece of Heaven on a plate, and every year he compliments Lettie on her cooking so much that it makes her blush, hard, straight up from her neck to her hairline. Phillip can picture it – Lettie hiding her face behind her hands, grinning, blubbering thank yous over and over again.

This year, though, the slice of cake that Phineas had run off with isn't even sat on his desk. Phillip knows he couldn't have ate it that quickly. There aren't even chocolate-coated crumbs on his face.

Instead, the slice of cake – a piece of the cake that Lettie always works her heart and soul into, every year – is thrown, completely uneaten, into the trash by Phineas's desk.

"Phin." Phillip turns to face the man whose hand is still gripping his arm. In his upbringing, sickness and disease were quite feared and, seeing as Phineas won't eat, that's the first place his mind goes. "Are you feeling well?"

"No."

Phin's answer is short, clipped. He drops Phillip's arm and turns away. There's a tension strumming throughout his entire body, a tension that Phillip can *sense* but Phineas won't talk about. Phillip is hurt. They haven't been together long, but long enough that he's been able to open up to Phineas about his past, his father, things bothering him. Phineas, though, is holding something back and the thought that Phineas still feels the need to keep secrets makes Phillip's chest tighten.

He wants to help, just as Phineas has done for him.

Phineas's back is still facing Phillip, but Phillip steps up to him – if Phineas hears, he doesn't move or react at all – and wraps his arms around Phineas from behind, similar to how Phineas holds him when they're surrendering to slumber in bed. He hugs Phineas tight, even though Phin still won't face him, and rests against Phineas's shoulder.

It's there in the silence, Phillip refusing to let Phineas go, when Phillip hears the first catch of breath and hint of a sob.

"Phin—"

The last thing Phillip expects Phineas to do in this moment is kiss him, but the kiss is forceful enough to bruise his lips. The tears on Phineas's face wetten Phillip's own cheeks, and Phin's grip on his shirt isn't out of lust or passion. It's fearful desperation, desperation that suggests that he'll never hold Phillip again if he lets go.

Phillip cannot allow himself to get lost in the moment. He pulls away, yanks away with enough force that almost sends him sprawling backwards into Phin's desk. Phin, who—

Whose eyes were scrunched shut throughout the entire kiss as if he'd been forced – though he was the initiator. He's only just now opening them as Phillip peers up at him, and there are still tears dampening his cheeks.

"Talk to me," Phillip urges. He means it as a demand, but it almost sounds like he's begging. He can still feel Phin's hands on his skin and he subconsciously rubs the back of his neck as he peers at Phineas. The ringmaster stares back at him, eyes wet. He reaches up to rub his hands over his face, but Phillip yanks them down, eyes filled with blue fire. He's not letting Phineas hide this time.

"It's your birthday, Phin. You love your birthday."

Instead of responding verbally, Phineas only stares at him. He pulls one hand free of Phillip's grasp and lifts it, cradling Phillip's face in his hand. The playwright scowls. When Phineas kisses him again, it's softer. A ghostlike touch of the lips, barely there one second, completely gone the next.

It feels like giving up.

Phineas uses both hands now to hold Phillip's face. With one hand, he lightly traces a finger along the smooth skin underneath Phillip's eyes. He pulls his other hand back, traces the slight wrinkles lining his own eyes – instead of only showing up when he smiled, now they've taken permanent root.

"I'm scared, Phillip," he admits in a whisper softer than the kiss. Phillip watches, entranced, as Phineas bows his head. His stomach rumbles, then – a reminder of the cake he didn't eat, that lies forgotten in the trash.

"Scared?"

The word sounds foreign on Phillip's tongue. He'd never think to use it and P.T. Barnum in the same sentence.

Phineas exhales and leans back, dropping both hands from Phillip's face. Phillip frowns as he tries to figure out what it is that P.T. Barnum could possibly be afraid of.

"Do you know what the difference between last year and this year is, Phillip? Do you know why it is that I've thrown that—" his eyes flick to the trashcan, "—delectable reminder of rapidly increasing age away?"

Phillip shakes his head, confused now more than ever.

Phineas sighs again.

"It's because this year, Phil... I have you."

It takes a moment for Phineas's words to sink in.

"Me?" Phillip echoes, now more confused than ever. "But why would – Phineas, if I've done something that's ruined your birthday then I am truly, sincerely sorry. I never meant—"

Phineas's laughter is what shuts him up. It's livelier than before, but still... nowhere near Phineas's normal levels of cheer.

"It's not 'because of' you, Phillip. It's you."

"Must you always speak in riddles?" Phillip groans.

For a moment, Phineas's lip curls into the beginnings of a familiar smirk, and Phillip's heart jumps. The moment is gone, though, and when Phineas teases back, it's in a voice that's hardly a shell of the same man who persuaded Phillip to join the circus by dancing on a bartop.

"You'd think an acclaimed playwright would solve a simple riddle."

"Yeah, well..." The tips of Phillip's ears are pink. "I haven't done any playwriting in awhile."

The teasing moment is gone again, and Phineas sighs. He's stopped crying, for the most part, but his face is still red and stained with tears.

"Have you ever thought about growing older, Phillip?"

"Sometimes," Phillip admits, "but not—"

"Not often," Phineas interrupts. "You're still young. You've got years and years ahead of you."

"I'm thirty, Phineas. Not twelve."

"Yes, well..." Phineas waves a hand. "It's still fifteen more years than I've got."

Phineas walks over and sinks into his desk chair with a sigh and runs a hand through his hair. It's still wavy, still mostly brown, but Phillip knows Phineas has been starting to gray in some areas – a look that didn't bother Phillip at all, really. Rather, he found it quite attractive. He runs a hand through his own hair and bites his lip.

"What does this have to do with me, Phin?"

When Phineas looks up at Phillip, his eyes are watery again and his lips curl into a sad smile to match.

"They're fifteen years that I... will never get with you, Phillip. Fifteen years that we can never take back."

Phillip gulps.

"You're scared because of me?" he asks, voice hardly above a whisper.

"Not 'because of' you, Phillip," Phineas repeats. "Please – don't place that blame on yourself." He smiles, but it's tired. Like before, it doesn't reach his eyes. "Aging is something that none of us can control. It's a simple fact of life."

"But you think you're getting... too old for me."

Phineas says nothing. Phillip knows he's right.

"Phin, do you..." Phillip takes a deep breath. "Think that I'm going to leave you? Because of your age?"

Phineas doesn't say a word. He looks up at the door, and Phillip follows his gaze – there's nobody out in the hall, but the door is open just a crack. Phillip crosses the room and closes the door.

"Talk to me," he pleads, turning back around.

"I... would not..." Phineas sighs, "blame you if you desired for a younger... lover."

Though they've been together quite a few times, the word still makes the subconsciousness of Phillip's first-class upbringing shudder. His entire face goes warm, but when he speaks it's with nothing but truth and desire.

"Phineas..." He strides over and pulls Phineas, who goes willingly, to his feet. When he straightens, Phillip reaches up to wrap his arms around Phineas's neck. "I want you. Only you."

Phineas stares down at him, eyes still unbelieving. His fingers twitch – not with desire, but anxiety. Doubt creeps into his mind, twists his stomach. He begins to take a step back and attempts to remove Phillip's arms from around his neck.

Phillip holds on.

Dark, serious blue eyes meet a pair of hesitant whiskey as, this time, it is Phillip who pulls Phineas close. It is Phillip who presses his lips to Phineas's, and it is Phillip who pulls away to look Phineas in the eye and murmur against his skin.

"I love you, Phineas."

Phineas inhales sharply. Though they'd been together multiple times before, their actions much more intimate than a couple just 'fooling around,' neither of them had ever said the words before. He struggles to find the words to speak as he looks down at Phillip, whose eyes sparkle brightly, and who squeezes him tight, delivering a light kiss to his jaw.

"Phillip, I—" Phineas's chest rises and falls rapidly, and he can't help the grin that slowly grows across his face. For the first time that day, he radiates.

But, almost as soon as he's lifted up, he crashes down again.

"Are you certain?" he asks, slightly flustered. His chest bursts with unspoken words on the tip of his tongue, but he can't speak them, can't risk that vulnerability, until— "Phillip, darling, are you sure?"

Phillip rolls his eyes, but now that he knows where Phineas is coming from, he doesn't get frustrated. Instead, he pulls away. The action sends a brief panic through Phineas until Phillip hugs him tight. Phillip wasn't much of a hugger – that was more Phineas's department – but he doesn't let go, not until Phineas finally breaks away for breath, not until he's finished whispering assurances in Phineas's ear. The ringmaster is trembling under his touch and there are tears in his eyes again when they finally pull away – but they're tears of hope. Tears of love.

"I love you, too, Phillip," he admits, caressing his hand along Phillip's cheek. Phillip smiles and leans into the touch, but pulls away after just a short few seconds.

"Happy birthday, Phin. Today's about you – not me."

Phineas opens his mouth, about to protest, when Phillip rises on his tip toes to whisper his birthday present for Phineas into his ear. Phineas looks at him, eyes wide and dark. Phillip smirks.

"But first," he murmurs, lacing their fingers together and kissing Phineas's knuckles. "Let's get you a fresh slice of birthday cake."

 


End file.
